


Found in Forbidden Nights

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Mind the Tags, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Possibly some OOC moments, The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors, Threesome - F/F/M, What-If, pro Jaime/Brienne, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: The time for thinking had long past, her rationality close to disappearing into tales from history to find favour with the kings and queens of old. Brienne was lost in stories she had once memorised down to the word but now, as a hum emerged from his fervid lips, found she could not remember a single name or place that had accompanied her treacherous journey from naïveté into adulthood.





	Found in Forbidden Nights

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, probably around season 3, someone who is no longer in fandom queried why there are so many love triangles in fic and not nearly the same number of threesomes. So, I wrote this for her and it's been in my drafts folder for near on four years. I wasn't planning on keeping it for so long but I now don't think there will ever be a right time to share it. 
> 
> This is definitely pro Jaime/Brienne but also contains explicit material between Jaime/Cersei and Cersei/Brienne. If any of that is going to be problematic for you, please don't read any further. Because it's so old, it also doesn't take into account anything that's happened in the show since early season 4: no sept ka-bloom, no death of Tommen etc.
> 
> Thank you with all my heart to RoseHeart and Sandwiches who have helped me get the tone of this right, have been the voices of reassurance and helped me keep it as close to the characters as possible. 
> 
> Anything you recognise isn't mine.

There appeared to be no end to the vast nothingness now stretching out before her, the absence of all she had come to find familiar during the longest of nights preventing Brienne from providing her frantically grasping mind with much needed clarity. Desperately trying to surface, she searched for any kind of life line that would keep her above the flickering waves of pain and panic that wanted to pull her deeper into the all-encompassing darkness. Without any intentional thought, her mind settled on the moment where she had felt the most alive, more woman rather than warrior, a time when she knew she had been the most loved. And Brienne gratefully sunk back into that memory before she could be swept away by the fresh flood of fever that threatened to drag her into the depths of unconsciousness.

The time for thinking had long past, her rationality close to disappearing into tales from history to find favour with the kings and queens of old. Brienne was lost in stories she had once memorised down to the word but now, as a hum emerged from his fervid lips, found she could not remember a single name or place that had accompanied her treacherous journey from naïveté into adulthood.

Traversing a path of exploration up her freckled thigh, his tongue darted out to taste the spot where his sword had once left its mark, back when he was the feared and infamous Kingslayer, having not yet become trusted or loved enough to be simply Jaime, a name which now easily slipped from her lips.

It gilded her increasingly ragged breath, the anticipation of what was to come causing Brienne to shift her weight minutely. Despite his bawdy explanations and her embarrassingly aroused blushes, there was nothing left in her that truly wanted to linger on the idea of where Jaime was heading. She desperately wanted him to possess the surprisingly soft places they had both stroked with firm or fleeting fingertips, but it had never been like this. He had never touched her _there_ with the same smiling lips that had claimed her own on countless occasions, sharing hungrily building kisses to such a point that she had to, on occasion, push away from the wanton pull of their passion.

Her hand slipped into the mass of silver and gold falling haphazardly over his beautifully battle weary face, tangling her fingers in the matted curls. Jaime began to murmur wordless sounds between her legs, teasing the tip of his tongue into soft folds that had moistened the moment he had tugged lovingly at the laces of her breeches and demanded she lay back on their pitiful excuse for a bed. The endless night stretching out around them may have started to descend into one of the unconquerable seven hells, dragon fire seeming to signal the end of days, but as Jaime almost purred against her centre, circling her swollen nub knowingly, Brienne keened and arched off the makeshift fur mattress, wholly giving herself over to familiar tingles running up the reinvigorated muscles in her legs.

His maimed arm rose to rest comfortably over the prominent jut of her hip bone, scars he had received protecting her honour brushing against scars she had gained in the defence of his life, attempting to hold her steady as waves of sensation forced Brienne to writhe shamelessly. Jaime laughed, equal parts breath and sound, the vibrations burrowing under her skin to travel the length of her covered torso, breathlessly releasing his name in protest a heartbeat later. Slow as she was, it had not taken Brienne long to realise that he enjoyed teasing her, watching her gradually come undone almost as much as she enjoyed the finality of release by his hand. She brazenly caught his wickedly darkening eyes while Jaime continued to press his lips and roll his tongue around pleasure points they had discovered together, forgoing his own peak until she had found hers.

The multitude of moans now lying heavy in the frigid Northern air were growing loud enough to disturb the ever present brothers of the Nights Watch taking shelter from the wintery storms in the halls and chambers below. Thankfully, it had been many moons since anyone had passed comment on the amorous activities of their two best commanders. And, even then, relief rather than disgust had flavoured the japes that greeted Brienne the morning after Jaime had taken her offered maidenhead, the men feeling the tension just as strongly as they did. Finally, denying their desires had become too much to bear after another night spent ferociously fighting back to back in the frozen wasteland, coming to accept that they were not going to survive long enough to see the spring. Every passing day was another which could have been their last. She remembered blushing around each meagre bite of lumpy porridge as they stayed almost too close that day, Jaime placing his golden hand on her thigh, possessive and tender all at once.

Talk among the men had soon turned back to old victories and new tactics, respect quelling the cheerful insubordination without a word. Left alone to return to their normal training and sparring routines, as if Brienne's thoughts were not straying to how he had felt inside her every time she caught Jaime staring, it seemed like little had changed between them. But when he started parrying her attack patterns with overzealous grunts in front of a crowd of transfixed watchmen, steel singing in their hands, they found that a bar to the armoury door allowed them to shed boiled leather and sweat stained undertunics without having to make the journey back to a formerly chastely shared chamber.

In those moments, when love shone out of her like the first glints of the long awaited spring dawn, they were as good together as they were on the battlefield, something Brienne had never thought would go beyond her wildest dreams. And though no binding oath had been spoken in front of gods or men, they were now and forever married to the mission, the sword and each other.

That was at the beginning, before she had shown up through the sea and spray of snow and ice. Now, as a curtain of blonde hair, mirroring Jaime’s own golden strands, suddenly brushed over her ravaged cheek, the curls escaping from an intricately woven braid, Brienne realised there may always be a part of him that she would never be allowed close enough to understand. A reason why her bulk alone might not be quite enough to satisfy his growing restlessness in the dark. A reason why she had found herself wondering on more than one occasion if two souls cleaved at birth, and asked to live as separate beings, would sound the same in such close quarters, feel the same, taste the same. She had instigated this, stumbling over her words as Jaime proved once and for all that he would do anything to make her happy, despite his reservations, his pleas to understand, his promises that she was all he wanted.

She would never forget how Jaime had raged like the darkest and most dangerous summer storm to have ever hit her sheltered childhood home the night she first brought the idea to him, forsaking her bed, her touch, her love, to lie bundled in his resentment and reservation on the cold stone floor. He would not listen, could not believe or understand in her need to know and see with her own eyes what was left between the knight and his Queen.

And it would not leave her alone.

It would not let her be. The lions of Lannister danced behind her eyelids as she slept, that night and so many before and after, entwined, entangled, enduring, a power bigger than she could imagine holding them together. Even as the guards changed and Jaime finally joined her in their bed, instinctively reaching for her as if needing her warmth as he cooled, murmuring through the dreams that made him long and lust only for the woman in his arms, she wondered. Who was he with _her _? Who would _she_ be with _both_ of them in such close quarters?__

____

____

It took near a full moon’s turn for the yearning to rise up and overwhelm her settled sensibilities again, Jaime yielding to impassioned words, sealing his agreement with a kiss that had Brienne feeling like he would have given her anything, had she just found the courage to ask. But how could that be when there was Cersei, his golden twin, his other half, his crowned queen of love and beauty? And there she was, having shifted liquidly from where she had been watching their careful coupling with clear intent, a predator waiting for the perfect moment to take down her chosen prey, bending over Brienne and drawing her lips into an attention seeking kiss.

Where Jaime had, at times, been surprisingly gentle with her, forgetting that their time together was running out the way white gold sand had slid through her childish fingers back on Tarth, Cersei was like a battle that would never be won. It was a war of looks and cleverly cutting words that rumbled beneath a deceptively calm surface in order to overcome the destructive power of sword and mace. And it was one that had been raging ever since she had arrived at The Wall with a deposed bastard king in hand, coyly pleading mercy, grieving her lost identity.

Foreign to the whispering ways of court, Brienne barely had enough energy to keep up with the double edged exchanges between the resentfully needy siblings, even though she had lied and betrayed to save the lives of men and children alike. Jaime had known the falsehoods hiding behind her promises the day she led him into an unlikely trap, one glance at the damaged flesh around her neck and he had seen the conflict hollowing out her integrity. There had been a trial, of sorts, and a deafening silence after her burning sword had seared through Lady Catelyn's throat, deepening the gash that was already etched into the dead flesh. The end of whom she had once pledged her service to would never sit easy with Brienne but, watching over her soundly sleeping squire, as they followed a path ever northwards, helped to chase some of the nightmares away. And Jaime's solid body at her back when she eventually closed her eyes, picking up where they had left off on their journey from Harrenhal to Kings Landing, kept all but the very worst images away.

With the reappearance of his sister, though, the winds of winter had taken on a new bite, and what little comfort Brienne had allowed herself to discover in his arms was overwhelmed by insecurities she thought had been left to shrivel to dust in the heat of the long summer. Cersei could not accept her unavoidable presence at first, the need to put her life, and that of her remaining child, in the oversized hands of the Kingslayer's Whore sitting ill with another publicly named wanton, finding that drinking and scheming and whoring were almost as rife in the ignoble Night's Watch as they were in the corrupt capital. Her sheer physicality and the ease in which Cersei flitted between character defining lusts allowed Brienne to wonder about the times she and her brother had swapped and shared identities as children like she would swap wool for fur. As Jaime had told her, they had shared everything once upon a time.

But as misconceptions were slowly being eroded away, a Queen who had long wanted a chance to make her own decisions looking into the life of a Lady who had found a way to break from her birth rite, Brienne gained a new shadow. A small perfect reminder of what she would never have with Jaime.

A life. A child.

A future.

Retaliating against a perceived lack of interest, Cersei suddenly nipped at her lower lip, drops of blood filling their searching mouths with the taste of lost innocence. Even attempting to remember the day when the twin’s less than subtle stares had turned into an echo of Jaime's emerald eyed desire, revulsion finally losing ground to curiosity and the need to be closer to someone that had once belonged solely to her, did not stop Brienne from instinctively parting her lips to become better acquainted with the other woman's tenacious tongue, rocking her hips into the pleasant knock of their lover's nose against her nub as he moved to lap at her eagerly aching entrance.

It was nothing like Brienne had expected to experience, vociferously weathering the storm of sensation with a leg moulded over Jaime's shoulder and an arm wrapped around Cersei's dipped waist. The opportunity to learn with her own fingers and lips how alike they truly were was far more arousing than she had imagined. Drawing the lioness further down into the furs, Jaime met her moan with a rumbling noise of his own, the sound gratifyingly disappearing into Brienne's swollen flesh as he snuck a glance at the women before covering her thighs back up with his mane. Though she could no longer see where his attention was fixed, discovering brand new emotions hiding in the identical shade of green now blocking out the rest of the world, Brienne felt the weight of his gaze nonetheless. And it was as much the memory of heat in his dilating pupils as Cersei's escalating exploratory kisses that forced her muscles to tense, rising off the bed again. Jaime, none too delicately, pushed her back down, shouldering her trembling knees into staying immodestly open to the night as he buried his face between her legs once again.

His sister dragged her teeth over freckle after freckle; neck, jaw and cheek, as if needing to know why the other half of her wanted the small breasted, broad shouldered creature with such desperate longing. She avoided Brienne's scars though, as she still flinched away from the sight of Jaime's stump, the stories behind such imperfections not mattering to someone so obsessed with the fleeting nature of beauty.

"You taste like the sea," Cersei commented bluntly as she pulled away, stopping as suddenly as she had started, caring as much for soft sentiments as she did anything further north than the comforts of Casterly Rock. She paused for a single steadying breath, although the brief respite did not give Brienne enough time to find the needed coherency to notice how cold her lips had been against hers, roaring fires and grey shaded bear skins unable to cut through the deathly chill for someone grown used to milder climes.

Still, the thought remained half realised, tickling at the back of Brienne's mind as a delicate hand joined her grasping one in Jaime's hair, guiding their movements. Even though each touch of his tongue and the familiarity of his fingers would be enough to guide Brienne into ecstasy, his sister was trying to take back whatever control there was to give. "Do you not think so, brother?" she asked, intermittent kisses continuing to rain down roughly as Brienne moaned and moved to meet each one with as much confidence as she could muster. She wondered if there would ever come a time when their formerly shared heart meant she would care for them both in spite of all the terrible things they had done, together and individually. "Or does her cunt not taste like the waters of her precious sapphire isle?"

Jaime growled out a warning, lifting his eyes but not his head, his gaze flickering from blue to green and then back again, searching for something, looking for love lost and found. She wanted to assure him that the taunts mattered little now, but the words would not escape her tightened chest. Brienne was left to hope that the drawn out sigh of contentment which left her lips as he continued to stroke and suckle, spoke more than she knew how to say. All she had left was the last heavy exhale of a scream which had been swallowed by Cersei's bluntly bittersweet touch, pulling her as taut as an archer's bow before quivering to rapturous release.

Rising to his knees Jaime ran his grinning mouth along the back of his hand, her arousal glistening boldly in the firelight. She was as happily spent as she could remember, twinges of pleasure refusing to leave her limbs to rest, while Cersei's insistent fingers worked to cool her skin by exposure. Her other hand, however, had not left her brother's face, drawing Brienne's attention to his visible desire to sheathe himself inside her warmth again. And although Cersei's barely chapped lips remained on the plains of the younger woman's face right up until the second she stopped shivering, her eyes surreptitiously darted between the two commanders, thoughts Brienne could so easily read from one twin staying comfortably concealed behind the batting eyelashes and knowing smiles of the other.

"It seems that you have been holding back on her," Cersei mused evenly, as if she was holding court in one of the many great halls her presence had graced over the years and not lying tousled and half unlaced alongside Brienne, biding her time until she could take her satisfaction from the situation. "They would have heard me scream in Dorne had you not covered my mouth the first time you used your tongue on me."

Jaime could not tear his gaze away from watching Brienne slowly recover from the pleasure he had given, only barking out a harsh, "I remember."

Coming down from the rushing mix of post coital emotion, Brienne struggled to curl up and away from the hints of disappointment and nostalgia in their voices, still too much on edge to want to disappear into sleep and leave the field of battle, the tender and tactless hands taking up residence on her ungainly limbs keeping her with them every step of the way. Though as Cersei spoke without acknowledging her by name, Brienne knew that, when it came to Jaime, they would always be longing for different pages in the ashes of The White Book. A cloak of white or a golden hand, trust being placed in words and deeds, two sides of the same tarnished coin.

"What is it that you want, Cersei?" he finally enquired into her purposeful palm, tentatively tracing patterns over the thighs he was still cradled between. Radiating frustration rather than unease, he seemed to need to see how Brienne would react to hearing their history without the benefit of his explanations.

"They took everything I wanted, dear brother. There is nothing left but this."

If there had been rules for how this encounter was to play out, willingly lying with lions like it was an everyday occurrence, Brienne forgot to remember all but one vow of importance as Jaime licked his lips clean and began to creep up her fatigued frame. Attempting to counter the ferociousness of one lover by pushing the other into coming undone for a second time, he lay a series of open mouthed suckling kisses across Brienne's bared abdomen, nipping at her breasts through worn material, reversing his earlier actions in slow motion as if each repeated caress could mean more than she had come to know. Cersei rolled onto her side to whisper tales of debauchery in her ear as he moved ever closer, all the while she continued to scratch and pinch and bite at them both, marking her territory as she complimented tales of Casterly Rock with rumours and half overheard truths, instructing Brienne how and when to roll her hips when Jaime pressed himself against her stomach, hard and hot and seeking friction.

He ran his nose along her neck before tilting his head to fill her hypersensitive senses with the unfamiliar taste of her climax while Cersei growled out another command, sharing in the trinity of love and lust and loathing, making a noise that Brienne could swear sent the steady beat between her legs skipping. She never wanted to let him go as they kissed like it was the first and last time, breaking for breath only to kiss again. Finally, though, she answered the other twin’s grumblings and nudged Jaime towards his sister. He softly grazed his lips against her cheek and turned to the woman he would have destroyed the world for.

Too much had changed for the twins to remain golden, true reflections of each other but years of secretly perfecting lustful rhythms allowed their mouths and hands to find a brutal common ground as Brienne recovered at an almost safe distance. The drumming in her head, however, would not cease, stubbornly keeping up its march through her veins as Jaime answered his sister's demands with the ease of a man who had been asked such things half a hundred times before, sucking at the juncture of her neck in softly determined pulses as if loathe to mark the unblemished skin.

Although, even as they wielded words as weapons in dangerously hushed tones between each familiarising touch, appearing to be caught up in the deepening dichotomy of distaste and desire, glints of green kept slipping through her lifting haze as if seeking out reassurance. She could not be sure what he needed from her in that moment exactly, but another tiny incline of her head as their combative kisses gave way to unmercifully thrusting tongues seemed to be enough for Jaime to look away. He moved with Cersei in such a way that it was Brienne who was left gasping for more, finally seeing the flicking ministrations of what she had only ever felt.

She fought off the echoes of royal decrees starting to wrap around her returning thoughts, focusing instead on how the memories of what had come to pass between the twins, through loss and betrayal and promises made, were proving to be an underprepared opponent for deep seated feelings that had merely waned with time, the banners of belonging having not yet withdrawn completely.! Her stomach twisted itself into knots of pure arousal as she watched them grapple with changes that had neither been expected nor wholly welcomed at first, surreptitiously rubbing her thighs together before Jaime caught her eye again. Though, for all their incensed haste and furious passion, Brienne could not help but feel like there was something missing in the way their tryst was unfolding. She had come to so many conclusions while patrolling in the cold with little more than her own thoughts for company, that until that moment, until she could see them tense and pause and continue, as if they were waiting to be caught, with her own eyes, Brienne had never realised how much latent anger the twins were still being consumed by. The surge of love she experienced every time his lips found hers was a world away from the twins’ punishing embrace, his playful squeeze of her knee as he continued to hold Cersei close, promising nothing and, yet, somehow, everything. Dividing his attentions, Jaime stroked along the line where corded muscles met the give of her thigh, Brienne feeling like a fool for not realising before now that when he touched her, he was giving with his entire heart. Unable to fight off a smile, Brienne held herself very still as Jaime tried to tickle her and kiss his sister in the same breath, knowing that he was doing this all for her and that she did not want to let go again.

Jaime tossed his hair from out of his eyes, almost as long now as it was when he had jumped into a bear pit half a lifetime ago. His hand was moved to become preoccupied with running up Cersei's leg in an effort to negate the restrictiveness of her skirts before she could voice a protest at not being able to feel him. Brienne had not felt the urge to dress up and play the storybook maiden since Septa Roelle had informed her of her ugliness, and watching their momentary struggle made her glad Jaime had only lasciviously brought up the idea once, after seeing one of the Northern serving girls being taken up against a wall in the stables.

"It's been a while," he confessed as Cersei managed to hook a leg around his hip and pulled him closer, almost an apology if not for the genuinely proud look he sent Brienne. Jaime swallowed hard as she stared, moving his hand further up his sister's side to squeeze one of her breasts, retaliating against the subtle rotation of her hips.

A glimmer of amusement crinkled at the corner of Cersei's bruised lips, her hands gripping at Jaime's shoulders, his back, his arse, dipping beneath the dark blue tunic that had once been Brienne's. As Cersei discovered scars that had been memorised into love, Brienne's fingers itched out of well-honed habit to travel up Jaime's jaw and find a home in his hair, the rough and smooth surfaces likely burning and soothing her roughened palms. But left to her own devices, except for the occasional brush of Jaime's ever searching scrutiny, Brienne could not help but stare in amazement as Cersei rebelled against being near pinned between fur and flesh for what she must have perceived as too long.

Her hair struggled with its opposing twists and ties as she bucked and stirred and resisted against the weight of dominance, every move knowingly seductive enough to draw increasingly vocal groans from her brother. Watching as their lips refused to stray from each other's flushed skin, it took no more than a few beats of Brienne's wanton heart for Cersei to rise victoriously, still greedy for power, balancing her weight gracefully between a clutching hand and an impressive, steadily rocking seat. And Jaime, despite having grown used to a certain level of modesty and mockery behind closed doors, gave away the reins of control not a moment too soon, the balled fists slamming into his chest forcing him to move so as to give Brienne a better view of their next power play.

Two pairs of eyes ran the length of her legs as Brienne tried to fold them away, feeling appraised and appreciated beneath their dual regard, Jaime just as interested in undressing as he was in documenting her every reactionary glance, blink, and blush. She stuttered out something resembling encouragement as his fingers untangled knots in Cersei's bodice laces, his movements too quick for her to follow though the older woman still pressed for him to go faster, as if even now they were running the risk of being discovered. It came as a sobering thought when Brienne realised that not one of the men who had wanted to bring them, and the products of their illicit affair, to justice was still alive. Some were bones, others dust, but they were all ghosts trying to find their way back home.

Not quite freed from her gown, Cersei's building impatience caused her to shuffle towards him on her knees, their hands brushing together as they dextrously made light work of Jaime's clothing. She inched even closer as he shrugged off breeches and smallclothes alike, Brienne unconsciously following the movement with her hips and shoulders as she caught a glimpse of his attention seeking cock and felt her toes curl, his beautiful sister hovering larger than life in order to try and reverse their roles once more. His hand disappeared beneath her skirts as Cersei unceremoniously ground her pelvis into his, neither backing down now that the floodgates had been opened. It was strange, though, that even as her back arched and her mouth fell open, Brienne was struck by the fact that she may have witnessed The Others making more noise creeping through fields of frost than Cersei did in the arms of her forbidden lover. The velveteen material pooled around them as the binding suddenly snapped, rather than parting gently, more like ice than snow, the fragile ties having not been made to withstand such an onslaught of emotion, leaving all three of them in various states of exposing undress.

"I've missed you," Cersei whispered as Brienne fought the urge to repeat the emotion from her stretched out voyeuristic position, clumsily crawling down the bed towards their embrace. His lovers started to murmur his name in near unison, an unlikely chorus of past and present rising up to request, question, insist. Brienne did not need to be pressed against or wrapped around uncovered rippling muscles, like Cersei was, to know what his replying groan signified, but her relieved smile still hurt her bitten, burnt lips as Jaime reached out to test his strength, pulling her across the remaining distance to settle comfortably at his right side.

"Brienne," he breathed into the column of her neck, love and trust and need overly present in the two syllables, nuzzling against the only pronounced curve that she could lay claim to. Cersei sighed almost inaudibly as he began to mouth at the sheen of sweat still on his wench's skin, contradictions rife in his constant touch, asking Brienne's hands to roam to where he was now aching to be touched as Jaime became reacquainted with what was usually hidden under Cersei's impractical gowns of muted scarlet and Brienne's dirty rough spun tunics alike.

If Brienne had not spent every day since the suggestion of sharing their bed had first past her lips, exhausted from fighting her own despair and an unstoppable enemy, then maybe she would have found a moment to consider how much of a part modesty would play when it came to undressing in front of a welcomed intrusion. Her firm, freckled flesh would likely pale in comparison to Cersei's compelling curves, but as the plea in his eyes matched the unspoken request behind his lips, Jaime finally moving to devour her mouth again after devoting an age to tugging and teasing and trailing red hot kisses up her neck and along her jaw, she was nearly as desperate as he was to be skin to skin again.

Her tunic hit the floor of their thawing chamber with barely a whisper as Cersei's cool fingers slid up and down her spine, having slipped out of her own smallclothes while Brienne's attention was directed elsewhere. Though they were now all on an equal footing, surrounded by piles of hastily discarded clothing, Brienne shared none of the carnal fearlessness that allowed the twins to show off their mouthwateringly obvious charms without wanting to hide breast or cock or cunt from her wandering eyes. But as Jaime smothered her scarred flesh with validation, laving along the telltale hangman's necklace, and Cersei reached out to draw a vicious circle around Brienne's hardened nipple, she was reminded of occasions when boiling post battle blood had prevented her from removing anything more than was absolutely necessary before Jaime and her had fucked the sensations into submission. Feeling the same kind of urgency spark between her thighs granted Brienne a bold blush of courage, biting her tongue rather than moaning out loud while Jaime shuddered into her beneath Cersei's clever campaign of hips and hands.

Laying her head on his shoulder, like she had so often done in the depths of darkness after they had both yielded exquisitely, Brienne gently rested her palm over his joyfully speeding heart, looking up at Cersei who had not moved from her position astride his lap. Though unable to explain why she needed to reaffirm his vitality in the equally racing pace set by her own chest, she could not help but move to hold him tighter.

At the change in pressure, Jaime sighed happily, running his stump over as much of her skin as he could reach, trying to reclaim that which Cersei had accidentally frozen with her drawn out touches, another quiet mark of respect and acceptance passing between them. Brienne felt fevered, one moment burning up like dragon fire had replaced her blood, the next turning into a true Child of winter. With only the hint of lust on his lips, he pressed a kiss to her temple, Brienne eventually surrendering what little remained of her shyness as Cersei took ahold of her chin and Jaime ghosted over the bridge of her nose before licking into her mouth. Instinctually her overly long leg wrapped around entwined limbs to feel Cersei's muscles move as she rocked again, Jaime's eyelids fluttering against her forehead as his grip around her waist became almost painful.

He groaned through clenched teeth, irritatingly conflicted and as close to the edge as Brienne had heard him. The beat beneath her ear was hastening from a canter to a gallop, and as she settled herself into a more comfortable position Cersei bent low enough to passionately kiss her brother, domineering right down to the very last breath, her second embrace given just as strongly to a curiously wide eyed Brienne.

"Brienne, sweetling," Jaime called her back as the air that had been stolen from her lungs left her head spinning, tapping at her wrist and lifting Cersei away from his erection almost in one movement. "Remember when you showed me how you liked to be touched?" he asked, his honeyed tone as warm and soothing as a late summer's evening. "When you took me inside after, you came so hard I thought you were going to pass out."

Cersei raised an eyebrow as she looked down her refined nose, still moving sporadically now across Jaime’s stomach, the action landing somewhere between interested and nonchalant. "Did you think of him often as you were learning to fuck yourself?" she smiled, a whisper of the prettily uncompromising girl she must have been, colouring her scarlet and gold with a toss of her head, possibly the only true Lannister left. "Was he as much yours while you slept as he was mine in the light?"

There was no satisfactory answer Brienne could have given to that question. Her dreams, fevered and sober alike, were hers and hers alone. Not even Jaime was aware of how long it had been since she was last haunted by a King instead of the Kingslayer, half a god but sharp as glass and twice as bright. "I..."

"And what do you dream of?" Jaime cut in effortlessly, protectively. "Our brother's head on a pike? Being named heir to Casterly Rock with a thousand bannermen at your beck and call?" His eyes ran down her torso, every inch screaming of a femininity Brienne had only found in the descriptions of childhood heroines, nestling in the sparse curls guarding a sheathe which seemed to be one of the few weapons Cersei needed. "Or a _sword_ of your own?"

Cersei barked out a laugh as she raked over the warm skin and muscle and scar tissue covering his chest and stomach, her nails leaving tiny crescent shaped marks only where she could be sure Brienne would be able to watch them form and fade, Jaime's silence deafening. "After all the times I've fucked you, dear brother, you would think..." she trailed off pointedly, furiously. "I dream of my children, our family. Of who you were when they were taken from me. Of the reasons why I was not allowed to save them."

"Cersei," Brienne rasped suddenly, the name tasting stranger on her tongue than Cersei did herself. Jaime's breath was hitting her skin in sharp waves, waiting for him to say anything which would have made her sound verbose and knowledgeable. "We swore to keep him safe."

Jaime ducked his head out of his sister's eye line, gently kissing Brienne's shoulder as she gathered up courage and truth like they were essential to survive. "And if he takes the black tomorrow or the next day or the day after that," she stated, Jaime's nod of agreement rubbing his cheek against hers and ending up with his mouth at her ear. "We will not let him forget."

"I love you," Jaime breathed as the promise settled and Cersei stared like she had been granted a stay of execution, his sentiment too quiet to be overhead but wanted more than Brienne had thought possible. "But I will never deserve you."

_I love you._

"Now," he announced with another insistent tap to her wrist, addressing the whole room as if the waxing and waning shadows could give an opinion in the matter. "Why don’t you show me what brought my sweet sister here tonight?"

Thanks to their shared experiences, touching him was becoming second nature to her. They had mapped each other out almost before they had lain together, but touching Cersei was still such a novelty that Jaime felt the need to walk her through it, step by step. Releasing his grip on her flared hip, Jaime began to slide his palm up Cersei's side, harder and rougher and faster than he generally would have been had Brienne taken the initiative and climbed on top. She was unsurprised to see that his remaining hand fit perfectly into the groove of his sister's waist, taking note of how Jaime squeezed her flesh just until she squirmed and growled before dancing his fingers over her ribcage, slowing and speeding, cupping her full breast to an exhale that sounded like the very essence of need.

He paused, for a third time nudging his other lover with his stump, asking her to repeat the motion with her own hand. Although she was breathing hard, rings of green decorating her dilating pupils like ornately glimmering jewels, Brienne was burning so brightly that Cersei could not feel anything but lukewarm beneath her skin. She was wonderfully soft, though, in all the places where Brienne knew her own frame would be strong.

Her long fingers were drawn to stroking along one of the icy white lines marking Cersei's hips emerging from the fight of multiple pregnancies, battle scarred from the birthing bed, the tiny imperfections doing more to humanise the Queen than the sum of all her acts of contrition. An uncontrolled purr left her pursed lips as Brienne trailed her fingertips over well-travelled roads of love and experience, sounding so much like an ecstatic Jaime that she had to check their rise and fall motions were not edging back towards his cock.

"There's no point being gentle," Jaime told her softly as he noticed her hesitation, kissing her face with the upmost care while rubbing and pinching at Cersei's nipple until she shivered violently. "Not with her practically dripping."

"Get on with it then, Jaime."

He shot Brienne a look of pure disdain, exaggerating the roll of his eyes as if his sister was throwing the kind of tantrum she should have outgrown, working Cersei up into a vigorously squirming frenzy between his practiced thumb and forefinger. But Jaime could only keep up the detached act for a handful of seconds before concern and delight shattered the growing arrogance into pieces, pulling Brienne in for a kiss that nearly unseated the not quite satisfied woman holding him down.

"Enough," Cersei snapped, the breath that held her brother's name becoming Brienne's, the recently deflowered maiden having moved from watching and learning to copying, her fingers toying with an unexpected sensitivity where Cersei's breast curved back against her body, thumb perfectly rolling around the engorged bud like Jaime had demonstrated.

"She needs you now," he murmured, a strange mix of praise and pride flowing with the words, Jaime undoing the last tie around Cersei's messy braid while his mouth briefly took the place of his hand. "I need you now. Why don't you touch her like you touch yourself?"

_I need you to be strong for me._

"Fuck, Jaime, stop talking. Just...somebody fuck me."

Fuelled by nothing but a primal need, Cersei stretched as she tried to take matters into her own hands, giving up her fragile hold of Jaime's head to snake down her glistening torso in the hopes of finally finding relief. Though he continued to firmly suckle at her breast while Brienne weighed up where exactly to touch next, Jaime blindly caught his sister's wrist seconds before she could insinuate it between her thighs.

"That's cheating," he chastised, the obvious hunger in his tone growing with every passing moment. Although the additional presence of a strangely wavering note did not go unnoticed by either woman. "Brienne?"

_My wench, my lady, my love._

"You need to finish what you started, my love. Just look at how excited she is now, that’s not my doing. You are the only one who can finish this. Show me why she’s here.”

The angle looked wrong but as she moved to tentatively run her fingers through golden curls in careful, measured strokes, Brienne quickly realised that something like that would not matter to either of the twins. Cersei was just as warm and wet and wanting as Jaime had promised, immediately starting to ask for more with every inch of her body, despite Brienne thinking she would require a little more time to become used to the change.

"Is this your first time with a woman?" she leered, attempting to broker terms they had not agreed upon even as she spread her legs to give Brienne better access to her cunt. "The Tyrell girl never tried to..." Cersei stuttered uncharacteristically as the younger woman abandoned any further foreplay to roughly circle her distinctively swollen nub once, twice before settling into a regular rhythm. "Ask... for... your... company?"

"I told you she was a quick study, sister." Jaime laughed hoarsely, failing to mask his own groan of enjoyment as Brienne pushed her fingers deeper into slippery signs of desire, the nights she had spent exploring her own body of little use when Cersei reacted to everything so differently. She stayed quieter than her brother until Brienne stopped stroking gently around her entrance to thrust and curl two fingers inside, her thumb naturally settling back on Cersei's aroused nub. The chorus of expletives could have come from either sibling, or both of them together like they were now sharing thoughts, but Brienne did not stop to check even as she felt Jaime's mouth on her neck again, abandoning watching them in order to give her pleasure as well.

As she repeated the motions that would hopefully bring Cersei to her fall, Brienne wondered if she would see one of his fantasies come to life if she looked into Jaime's eyes. If, when she had thought and dreamed of him in the Riverlands; naked, perfect, reborn, he had been standing in the White Tower thinking of her equally damp and exposed or her and his sister like this. Maybe he had even took himself in hand while Kings Landing slept around him, the enticing images dancing behind his eyes too good to leave be, their unknown saviour and supposedly celibate commander acting like a squire in the first throws of lust. Brienne did not mean to blush at the image, the colour likely as ugly as the slow spread of spring blossom pink across Cersei's skin was beautiful, but her returning embarrassment was out of her control.

Trusting her weight to wobbly thighs, Cersei pressed a leverage seeking palm into Jaime's chest, forcefully riding Brienne's hand as she rose, reaching out to pull the focused blonde to her knees. Brienne almost threw her leg around Jaime in order to complete her task a little more comfortably but he was breathing as if he had just been in a fight, holding them both hard enough to bruise, clearly enjoying watching their every move while being sandwiched in the middle. Brienne hoped he was finally savouring the moment, his feverishly attentive kisses landing everywhere he could reach, trying hard not to steal too many of Cersei's noises or distract Brienne's hands. She was finding herself to be falling into the pieces that had cracked the twins apart, sliding into the spaces left behind, but realised it meant little if he was not as he was now; reverent and utterly devoted to her.

His stump slipped between her legs for a taste as Brienne felt the first flicker of orgasm around her fingers, making her gasp in time with Cersei's semi swallowed moans. The former Regent had been full of so much raging desire before Brienne had even started touching her that it only took another few twisting thrusts for Cersei to explode with an animalistic scream, clutching and clenching at the fingers that stayed to caress her through each shivering aftershock. Jaime's grin reached a near audible level as he pressed his shortened arm back against Brienne's folds, cradling his collapsing sister to his chest.

"Seven hells," he swore good-naturedly as Brienne tried not to buck into his touch and lost her balance, inwardly cursing the clumsiness that left her sprawled half on top of him and face to face with Cersei. "Did that feel as good as it looked?"

"Not as good as you would have been, brother," Cersei murmured softly in reply, although it appeared to merely be a reflex, her earlier spite having been momentarily washed away by the power of her release. "But your girl has some talent it seems."

"With sword and sheath," he agreed pleasantly, the quip curling his lips into a knowing smile that flashed and burned almost in the same moment. "Are you satisfied yet?"

Cersei shook her head, though Brienne realised he was asking her rather than his sister, stretching across his chest to pull on Brienne's sweat tangled hair, bringing their lips back together just as they had all begun to breathe easier. "Tell me, though," she inquired, deepening the kiss for a beat before choosing to switch her focus to her brother's rapturous face. "Have you had a chance to see if she's good with her mouth as well? You've taught her well enough when it comes to kissing but it's certainly big enough to take your cock if she knows how to use it elsewhere."

Brienne," he emphasised, drawing her name out into a multi syllable love story as he traced lines down her back to make sure she felt buoyed in the increasingly choppy waters. "Has never needed to prove anything to me on her knees."

"Just as well," Cersei cackled, laying claim to each of her bedfellows in turn with a sharply possessive tongue. "I doubt you would want to linger between those lips anyway."

"Cersei."

Picking up where she had left off without acknowledging Jaime's growled last word, their deepening kisses eventually settling into a rhythm, Cersei entwined her softened fingers of nobility around Brienne's callouses. Guiding them lower still, the contrast of their practical and provoking touches forced Jaime's rigid length to twitch helplessly as they encircled their practiced hands around him.

Brienne tried to swallow the peal of nervous, heady laughter threatening to bubble over and put a voice to the clashing emotions wanting to take up arms beneath her skin. The attempt to keep it at bay created the sensation of being kissed from head to toe by shivers that felt like the prick of a hundred swords, bleeding out desire though no wound, mortal or otherwise, had been dealt. Her thoughts began to drift dangerously towards dynasties of fire and blood, almost forgotten tales of three headed dragons finally making sense in the heat of the stolen moment, understanding found in a forbidden night.

Jaime turned his head mid moan to demand her full attention, having started to buck into their steady squeezing strokes, escaping mirth muffled by the familiarity of his mouth, caught before Brienne could fall further.

"You want her."

Cersei's interruption was flavoured with little of the malice or bitterness that normally walked hand in hand alongside her well-chosen words, an old accusation proudly metamorphosing into a mutually pleasing realisation. A realisation that, in spite of the diverging ways in which she and Brienne had been raised and respected, both had come to learn how best to survive in a world where there was always an advantage to be gained or taken. Maybe with time they would begin to see each other's actions and intentions as anything but character flaws at the deepest level, but Brienne doubted it.

"And you love him," she continued as sincerely as she could. Brienne knew enough to suspect that even beneath her flushed cheeks and heaving breasts, Cersei could still be searching for angles to be played if they all laid together again. But the whispers of doubt rushing back in were not loud enough to prevent Brienne from risking a sigh as a single word broke free of Jaime's incoherent mumblings.

"Please."

Cersei laughed as Brienne felt herself burn brighter still, lifting her hand and closing her eyes as if the small gestures would grant her protection from the raw need evaporating off her twinned bedfellows in heady waves. The unrivalled darkness behind her eyelids gave Brienne an opportunity to centre herself, listening to her heart cry out for more and wondering if it would be Jaime or Cersei who would now move first.

Blind to the world, she reached out and made the same choice that had almost cost innocent lives before either golden god could lay a hand on her, her palms pressing gently against his chest. Jaime revelled in the subtle touch and began to move with her in silent reverie, his arms tight around her back while she gracelessly straddled him to an appreciatory noise of judgement from Cersei. The courage Brienne needed to tease him into further breathless pleas left her the moment his mouth closed around her breast.

Glancing up at her through a fan of fair eyelashes, Jaime deliberately turned her offensive play into a gasping surrender, leaning back against the whitewashed wall to watch her study him while he used all of his favourite tactics to mark and murmur his love into her tender flesh. Though there was no need to further prepare Brienne for what was coming next, she felt the furs under her knees shift anyway. Slender fingers gripped into her gently rocking hips, encouraging them into finding a faster rhythm even before she had moved to sink down onto his solidly weeping cock.

"Stop playing with him," Cersei impatiently muttered in her ear. The charming smile Jaime fixed them both with as he released Brienne's pebbled nipple was in direct odds with his sister's changing attitudes. "And show me why I keep hearing romantic ballads about my brother and a blue eyed beauty."

"It was not just a hand that the Kingslayer lost on the road," Jaime sang out, loud enough for all the slumbering crows and ravens to hear, pulling Brienne against his heart in order to dissolve any rising tension with the softest of silencing kisses over her shoulder. Pressed cheek to cheek and chest to chest, she focused on breathing him in and let hands which didn't belong to her move pieces into place. "For the maid stole his heart, carrying it with her alongside the sword he had bestowed."

Cersei scoffed, although it was tinged with a genuine sadness Brienne had not thought the older woman capable of feeling, her losses from repetitive years of war striking just as hard as those of the two warriors. _We will be remembered_ , Brienne decided, absently stroking down the back of Jaime's neck as he gallantly ignored his own throbbing need for a moment and gave her the chance to bask in the sensation of being slowly filled. Feeling Cersei's curves moulding to the planes of her back as her head flew back in pleasure, Brienne tried to soothe the shivers of Jaime's own growing impatience with an experimental roll of her hips, his shallow thrusts stuttering at just how tight she was around him, before readjusting and starting to pick up speed.

Seeking out the smaller hand digging fiercely into the give of her thigh, Brienne panted out a gutturally strangled sigh as Jaime recommenced his amorously vicious attack on her breasts, angling his hips just enough to brush against a place that had her seeing familiar stars with every focused stroke. But still, she found herself holding them all together until the echoes of honour and devotion had left the air. Though not one song would ever tell of what happened to heroes and villains alike once autumn forced summer into retreat.

Brienne knew now. Deep in the recesses of her mind, the truth still clung on as if trying to prevent a few more moments from truly taking over her reality. It dragged her back to where she actually lay, the empty spaces where heated and slick bodies had once lain coming back into focus as the fantasy faded. She knew how this ended, even the fever could not change the past and the innumerate times she had been greeted by this scene when she closed her eyes had cemented every word and touch, but Brienne would do anything to stay a little longer, to hold onto them and the realisation of what mattered most to her.

"Do you like feeling him inside you?" Cersei asked, biting into Brienne's already marked shoulder as she rubbed up against the younger woman, panting along with them and seeming to feed off the lovingly realised lust in the air. "Knowing that you have the power to make him that hard, to bring him to release every time he's buried between those massive thighs?"

"Yes," Brienne murmured unconsciously, too caught up in feeling the cresting wave that was starting to build in her core to bite her tongue, reignited pleasure trickling back into already sated muscles that were tensing with anticipation once again. "Oh gods, yes."

"Does he make you feel whole?"

Jaime shifted forward as Brienne instinctively rode him through another groaning thrust, taking her lips before further words could fall from them. Desperately beginning to push harder and faster into her, making even her meagre breasts bounce with the power of his movements, Jaime met and matched each breathy feminine moan with grunts that let her know this would not last much longer. None of this would last much longer if the rhythmic brushing of Cersei's knuckles against Brienne's lower back and the former Queen Regent's gasps in her ear were any indication.

No. Any moment now she would wake and the memories of what had followed would wash her in cold regret, the clash of love and duty taking her away from him right when she should have stayed close. If all she had was an echo of that night, she wanted to hold on to him for as long as they had left.

_Come with me._

"Come with me, my love," Jaime coaxed sweetly, dipping his head to suckle along her neck until she keened helplessly and yielded to the primal need that snapped her hips into an even more punishing rhythm. The sudden prickle of tears behind her half lidded eyes were an unwanted surprise as she stroked through his hair and watched Jaime slide his fingers tantalisingly close to where he had zealously licked between her legs.

"Jaime."

She was surfacing, no matter how hard she fought it, clinging to his passion as her fears of what they were, of what she meant to him, of what they could be, were released.

_I cannot this time, my love. Much as I want to, I am needed elsewhere._

Tiny voices returned to whisper ominously at the back of her mind, a partly formed memory chilling Brienne to the bone as a single despairing droplet escaped its crumbling barriers to fall unnoticed down her cheek. Although it seemed like nothing had changed from a moment ago, all three still delicately balanced on the precipice of orgasm and pushing closer towards the void, Brienne felt the sting of foreboding crash over her while the continued pressure of Jaime and Cersei's lips forced undignified whimpers out of her own.

"Jaime," she choked, throwing both her arms around his neck in order to better feel every perfect inch of him, giving herself over to the animalistic parry and attack, like she alone could keep them all safe if the resurrected nightmares screaming for purchase somehow came to fruition. "Jaime." His name was little more than a blissful sob, a fragmenting caress, a wanton cry that signalled the start of her surge into the arms of oblivion.

Why had she not trusted the change in his heart? Why had she not been able to believe the soft words spoken into her skin as much as she had those spoken in the light of day so long ago, their sword tying them together for the first time. Why had she not told him every day of her burning love for him? They all knew their lives were fleeting, nothing more than a blink of the gods’ eyes, and she should have spent every moment with him until they were called to duty, to fight, to die. _I'm sorry._

In less time than it took for the heartfelt apology to silently peal and dig it's claws into Brienne's deep seated fragility, calling, warning, knowing, Cersei had once again taken on the telltale traits of winter. With the uncomfortably solid and immovable weight keeping her upright when her own muscles were rapidly faltering, Brienne felt the mingling rivers of sweat traversing down her spine and flanks slow to a sickening crawl, cold meeting hot and reacting like one of the wrathful storms she had grown up under. All the while the creeping shadows of danger readying themselves to tear Jaime away just as they had torn Brienne from love's grasp before.

_Stupid, honourable, wondrous woman._

Gasping to catch the breath that would make everything right again, Brienne heard a whining rattle slip into her consciousness, the glimmer of sickness and fear having no place in their well-used bed. But Jaime was still straining to go faster beneath her, encouraged on by one pair of hands and held back by the other, and instead of stopping to listen it only amplified her need to loose herself in pleasure, a captain-less boat battered by the changeable currents of the sea. She would have bruises in the morning, where his and his sister's fingers were digging into her thighs, her shoulders, like talons, like knifes, but she no longer cared. An absence of feeling was only ever an absence of life.

"Jaime."

_I'm so sorry._

"Do you think he will still love you in the light of the day? That your kiss will not taste... better in the dark... when it's-it's forbidden?" Cersei rasped, the words wrapping around the shuddering inevitability of her coming release, the last syllable taking her in convulsions, Brienne's closeness giving her a chance to feel every painful twitch and violent tremor.

_From this day until the end of our days_ , Brienne thought as Cersei took all that she could, her second peak no less intense than the first, promises that could not be kept with an unending winter in their way. Unaware of the whispered back and forth between the two women, Jaime threw his head back as a similar wall of bliss hit him hard and Brienne could not help but follow, pressing her lips to the arch of his neck until his heart slowed in time with hers. She had grown used to how Jaime liked to remain nestled inside her after, spent and satisfied and speechless although, if their previous endeavours were anything to go by, the way he was trying to nuzzle closer was a clear indication of how ready they both were to curl up and let the burning afterglow rock them to sleep. _How could I not believe in him after everything?_

"Will you still love him if he never returns to your side?"

_You will be the death of me one of these days._

Brienne turned away from the affection she had never expected to find or crave, her armour all but gone as she prepared herself to face the accusation head on. "What more do I have to..." she began, stuttering to a stop just as Jaime's arms began to drop down her back, his eyes closing in exhaustion and overstimulation, his head falling neatly to his chest. She was no longer sure how this went now, the steps changing mid-way through the dance without giving her time to adjust and change her posture. Cersei was almost too cold, her skin and venomous tongue poised to only harm, and she was lingering, frozen in place. ”I-I... you never stay. Jaime told me you never..."

"And what other tales does my brother see fit to tell you?"

Brienne's heart began to race like she had been turned out of bed only to be thrust into a battle for life or death, the constant calculations in Cersei's eyes lightening as she untangled and twisted around to hold her stare. Not in brevity, though, Brienne realised, casting her own eyes to the embers of the dying fire at the first ice blue flicker through the disappearing emerald green, the colour rising from forest to sky, more dead than alive.

"You know he's not coming back," she spat, nodding to Jaime's slumped form and gripping into the tensed muscles of Brienne's shoulder so that she would only turn when instructed to. Pain flared out to caress all her healed and healing wounds as the blood started to flow down her breast, skin splitting cleanly where scar tissue had already been given a chance to form. Fingernails bit into her flesh like a blade, Brienne’s searching mind left to wonder if a sword had cut through her after all.

_Shut your mouth._

Suddenly, Jaime took on a deathly pallor under her no longer empty eyes, the tracks left by the tears as cold and desolate as melting icicles, Cersei's now inhumanly shrieked observations the catalyst needed to peel back the layers of grief and guilt. "No matter how much we loved him…we aren’t coming back."

_Feels appropriate that those might be your last words to me, wench._

_Make sure to watch your back out there, Jaime._

_You too, my love._

_Jaime._

_You can always change your mind about coming with me, Brienne, just because the men we serve with promised to be swords in the darkness, does not mean you have to be the same._

The tears were running down her cheeks now, unstoppable glaciers of regret re-shaping everything in their path, the agony in her bones nothing compared to that of her breaking heart. Whatever was left of Cersei behind monstrous blue eyes shook her like she was weightless, tearing and cleaving and destroying, northern wolves and bears feasting as much on her blood as her sorrow.

_I'll dream of you._

_I wish you sweet dreams then, Brienne._

It had not been the same as the goodbyes which had come before, Brienne reflected wistfully as the blood continued to pour down her chest and pool where they were still joined, but in the end all it took was one inappropriately lingering kiss to bind their fate.

"I will not give up on him. I will not forget him.”

"And yet, you do not deny you failed him. You failed us both.”

"Cer…”

"Ser-Ser, please.” A gentle hand replaced the vicious tendrils cutting through her strength like she was melted butter, trying to gain a foothold in a soul that, even now, belonged in equal parts to the Maiden and the Warrior. The memories that had filled her feverishly confused mind began to slowly fade back into obscurity, like they had done every time she rose to greet the new day still cloaked in the same old darkness.

Alone, always alone.

Languid mornings falling apart under Jaime’s clever tongue had been reduced to nothing more than a fantasy as sweet as the first light of spring, the growing sickness in her blood forcing Brienne to relive all the stolen kisses between meals and training drills and strategy meetings like they would never tire of the other’s touch. And the ways in which Cersei had deliberately brushed past her as she stalked around Castle Black, the caged lioness losing her pride and banished to a world where she did not fit and could not fight, still held the power to bring unwanted rushes of warmth to Brienne’s already overheated skin. Perhaps it always would.

All she had ever known could end as the prophecies foretold, in ice and fire, but Brienne would never forget the night she had made them both scream and shiver, finding the confidence to be sure that she would always be more than just a consolation prize in his eyes. Cersei had slipped away afterwards with a final kiss that left her feeling truly safe for the first time since they had stepped foot in the North. It had not lasted long. It never did. Love quickened his tongue where courtesy would have held it, Jaime asking her to break one last vow before he led the fighting out into the wilds. But they both knew as soon as the words froze in the air that she could not in good conscience leave her post again. He took a part of her with him that day, though not before he gave something of himself in return.

Cersei had, of course, seen him ride off to war many times since they had grown past the comforts of childhood, though Brienne did not want to hear of her experiences of seeing him return bruised and bloodied, but still her Jaime. She retreated back to her tower of whispers while Brienne doubled her efforts in the training yard, watching from afar as Cersei defeated a sleeping sickness that had decimated the ranks of the Night’s Watch only to freeze, trapped in her tower on the night Eastwatch-by-the-Sea burned to the ground. Not the first casualty of the cold, nor the last. Brienne had mourned them both, but she was still mourning him with her every step, forced to see his smile on the face on the young man they had left behind for her to finish raising.

"My lady?”

Jaime, she wanted to call out, but the cough that escaped her parched throat sounded nothing like what was threatening to betray her thoughts. “Podrick?”

"My lady?” he repeated, squeezing her deeply bandaged and stinging shoulder in relief as she choked out a request for water. “We did not think you-you would wake so soon. Maester Samwell said he gave you enough milk of the poppy to-to… knock out a horse. He wanted you to rest.”

_He wanted me to sleep without reliving whatever I’ve just survived._

"There were wounds in your shoulder and belly when we found you but they…cleaned and stitched you up. The Maester thought you would like to…” Podrick trailed off, glancing over his shoulder as a gust of cold air signalled the entry of another returning soldier into the tent, the unwelcome intrusion making her shiver and wrap the layers of furs around her bruised torso a little tighter. Brienne found a skin of water being pressed into her hands just as she tried to speak again, nodding her thanks and missing a chance to notice her squire straightening in his seat as he took another quick, relieved, glance behind them. At least the cool liquid soothed her raw throat as she sipped and swallowed, listening to Podrick skirt around whatever truth they all did not think she needed to hear yet.

"I-I…you saved my life, Ser. Tommen’s too. When The Other’s came for us," he was explaining quietly but the sedatives running freely through her veins and the shock from the fight she could not quite remember were working against her better instincts to fight to stay awake to make sense of whatever was making him stutter and stumble over his words as if he was a child again faced with the prospect of having Ser Jaime Lannister as a sparring partner. “…we- we knew you would not want it to be left behind… but by the time we turned around to retrieve your sword, the snow had taken it. I’m sorry, my lady.”

_I’m so sorry, Jaime._

Brienne felt her eyelids start to flicker as Pod ducked his head in apology, his voice finally fading as she drifted away from the underlying pain of her battlefield injuries and back towards the memory of a familiar warm embrace. In her dreams there was no sense of time, no sense of loss, no need to grieve. The twinge of doubt over his love for her had been banished the night they had taken his sister into their arms, but even if Jaime had perished fulfilling promises he had first made with a white cloak at his back, and then again with her lips stealing every other word, behind her eyes they would have an eternity under benevolent gods to show exactly what ‘love’ had meant. Feeling her eyes close, she heard someone call out her name, the weight of a gentle hand brushing over her frostbitten cheek before staking a commanding claim over her bandages, but she was too tired by then to respond.

_Hello, my love._

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far, thank you for reading


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